Mean Streak
by TheVampireLucinda
Summary: Based on the events of 5/17/10 RAW. The Animal Batista has gone on a rampage, showing no mercy to anyone who gets in his way. And a certain someone thinks that the change is for the better... Slash!


**Title**: Mean Streak

**Author**: TheVampireLucinda

**Featuring**: Batista and the Undertaker

**Disclaimer**: Slash! Nothing too bad...but still slash (also coincides with the running storyline of **To Be Loved**). Also, some violence and, uh, threatening themes...

**Summary**: Based (very loosely, haha) on the events of 5/17/10 RAW. Infuriated by Cena's continuing childish actions, the Animal Batista has gone on a rampage, showing no mercy to anyone who gets in his way. Several people have taken notice of this mean-streak in Batista that had lain dormant for many years, and one person in particular thinks it's a good change for the Animal...Inspired by my all-time favorite Undertaker/Batista author, Syl. ;) A one-shot.

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The man known as the Animal looked down with cold brown eyes at his opponent this upcoming Sunday, the man he had vowed to hurt, to break, to humiliate and force to scream "I quit" in front of the legions of his childish fans. He had put Cena in a special submission move—one that allowed no "tapping out," as it were, and the only way out was to say "I quit." The current WWE Champion had stubbornly refused to say the words, and he had suffered greatly for it, much to Batista enjoyment. The man now lay broken in the ring, with several members of the medical staff huddled around his writhing form, while security attempted to block Batista's way.

But there was no need to. The damage had been done. Batista had heard Cena's screams, relished in them; there was no need for anything more. The message had been sent. John Cena knew well the pain that Batista was able and more than willing to inflict on his enemies, and this coming Sunday, he would know the limits of agony.

The Animal loved it all. He _loved_ the notion of causing extreme pain, the feeling of power that came from absolutely dominating another.

Earlier this same night, he had assaulted Mark Henry, whom he had beaten down last week and was still sporting bandages and scars. After breaking a wooden board on the larger man's back, Batista had used all of his strength to tear and twist Henry's already-injured arm, drinking in the cries and groans of pain. He'd even gone so far as to use the broken man's body as a step to get into the ring as he bathed in the spotlight that he had so rightfully deserved.

And now, instead of the spotlight, Batista bathed in the chorus of boos from the audience as they watched their hero, their "Champ," struggle to breathe and sit up in the middle of the ring.

Oh yes, there was no feeling quite like this one.

With a satisfied smirk, Batista walked into the backstage area. It gave him great pleasure to see many of the rookies and smaller wrestlers avoid his glance, and even some of the larger one's stepped out of his path. He had remembered getting this sort of respect back in his Evolution days, but that had been more on account of Triple H's legacy and vicious reputation.

But somewhere along the way, Batista had become a "good guy" after leaving Hunter. He had lost that killer instinct that had made him so valuable to the Game; the brutality that had earned him his nickname. But thanks to that useless piece of garbage John Cena, the "Animal" had returned after being pushed just a little too far. All throughout his body, he could feel power, and, more importantly, the thirst for his enemies' blood—blood that he was confident that he could, and would, easily spill.

It was a wonderful feeling.

Batista walked into the middle of one of the hallways leading to the locker room, threw back his head and roared out his sadistic happiness. The Bella Twins, who had been already hurriedly walking by, scurried away even more quickly, their features locked in identical expressions of fear. Ryder was, unfortunately, just leaving the locker room that Batista now stood in front of, and was caught completely by surprise when he was slammed suddenly into the opposite wall, back and head hitting it hard before he sank to the floor.

"Watch your step, kid," Batista said grimly as he looked down at the fallen, terrified younger Superstar. "You almost ran into me there."

"S-Sorry," Ryder stammered, slowly starting to stand when Batista's foot came crashing down onto his middle, knocking the wind from him completely. The Animal smiled down at him, and it was a genuine smile, laced as it was with malice and ill-intentions.

"It's okay, kid, I accept your apology."

Batista stared down at Ryder for a few long moments, just enough to make the kid squirm, before walking into the now-empty locker room.

"Now that's the respect I deserve," he said to himself as he opened his bag to take out his street clothes. Upon a quick glance of the room, he could see that it was indeed empty; all of the others must have run out when they saw him coming!

'But that's not surprising,' he thought, placing his jeans and T-shirt on the bench behind him. 'At this point, the only ones would would be dumb enough to stand in my way intentionally aren't here tonight.'

In his mind, he saw Triple H, who no doubt would have been smirking at him right now, somewhere between love and hate, as it had always been between them. He thought of Shawn Michaels as well, who had never backed down from him, who had looked him in the eyes and _dared_ Batista to lay a finger on him. How he hated the Heartbreak Kid, not only for that defiant attitude, but also for the simple fact that Hunter could never get over him, and always went back to him, no matter how many times they broke up. Orton probably also wouldn't have gotten out of his way, but Randy was preoccupied with Edge, and Batista was confident that he could punk out the Legend Killer when it got down to it. Hunter and Shawn, if they had been here, would not have run away; but everyone else would be forced to acknowledge that the wild animal could not, _would not_ be tamed.

"I am untamed" Batista said aloud, zipping up his bag with a smile. "I cannot be tamed."

"Well, that makes two of us."

The Animal stood quickly and turned around, face tightening into a grimace. He knew that voice well; he couldn't forget, no matter how hard he tried, the infuriating owner of that baritone.

"From what I hear," Batista replied, voice becoming sharp as a knife's edge, "That isn't entirely true. A lot of the guys think that Shawn Michaels was the one who at last tamed you."

Green eyes flashed for an instant, although the expression they were set in did not change. "A somewhat witty response? I'm impressed. So I guess it _is_ true: Dave Batista has, at long last, found a set." Demonstrating his utter disregard for the Animal, the Undertaker turned his back to the slightly shorter man and opened a locker, removing his bag and setting it on the floor.

Batista stood completely still, blood pounding in his head, acid eating at his veins. The Undertaker, a man he had not long ago wanted for himself, a man he had faced in several brutal matches for the World Heavyweight Championship; the man he hadn't had a chance with, and the man he had lost to on the Grandest Stage of Them All.

"What the hell do you want?" Dave spat, keeping his eyes locked on the Phenom.

The Undertaker didn't bother to turn around. "It's a public locker room, and my clothes are in here." He shut the door with a slam and knelt down near his bag. "I didn't come here for you, if that's what you are implying. Don't worry; you're not nearly that important."

Batista saw red.

Before he could stop himself, he had stormed over to where the Deadman now stood, hands curled into tight fists.

However, the Undertaker _did_ stop him, standing and catching the fist before it reached his face, and grabbing the arm, pulling the Animal in close.

"You've got a real mean streak, Dave," 'Taker growled, a small smile on his lips. "I didn't know you had it in you."

Batista jerked his arm away from the taller man, brown eyes blazing and mouth set in a tight line. "You think this is a joke?" he yelled, getting into the Deadman's face. "Well, I can assure you, as I assured Cena, that I. Am. Not. Joking. This is _not_ a game, and I will beat the living hell out of anyone who gets it my way, be it the WWE Champion, the Game, the Heartbreak Kid, the Legend Killer, or even the fucking Deadman himself. I _will_ hurt you, 'Taker, so I suggest you get the hell out while you still have a chance."

The Undertaker's green eyes flashed again, only this time in what seemed to be amusement. Without warning, he grabbed Batista by the throat, and forced the man against the lockers with a loud metallic crash.

"You really _have_ found some balls," he hissed, bringing a knee up and into Batista's stomach, drawing a pained gasp from the man. "But don't get carried away, you sorry sack of shit. You threaten me like that again, and I'll rip your throat out and choke you to death with your own tongue."

In the past, that would have been the limit for Dave Batista. He knew as well as anyone that the Undertaker did not make threats lightly, and that pissing the Deadman off always, _always_ resulted in unpleasant consequences.

But right now, the Animal didn't give a damn.

"You're right, 'Taker," Batista choked out, the hand still tight around his throat. "I did find some balls." He smiled suddenly. "And I can tell you where you can find a set of your own—" A sickening cracking sound echoed in the room as Batista felt his head slammed against the lockers—twice. But he couldn't stop himself from continuing.

"What's wrong, you don't want any? Or does Shawn not allow you to—" The Animal found himself suddenly unable to speak as the Undertaker's grip on his neck tightened considerably, cutting off his air supply completely.

"You say his name again, and I really will kill you," the Deadman said in a low voice, eyes narrowing as he watched Batista's face begin to redden, and then start to become blue. He slowly released his grip and let the other man gasp in much-needed air as he sank to his knees.

"But I see that you really _have_ found your inner killer," 'Taker continued, looking down at Batista, who now looked up at him with hate-filled brown eyes. He knelt down as well, coming face-to-face with his former opponent.

"And if you had let me finish what I was saying earlier, I was going to say that I think it's a change for the better."

Now _that_ threw Batista off guard completely, and his angry mask became one of utter confusion. Was the Undertaker..._praising_ him? After he had insulted his manhood, even?

The Deadman saw the look, and understood it. "You see," he explained, "I always thought that you were full of untapped potential. Hunter saw it too, and that's why he took you into his group all those years ago, and that's why he pushed you so hard when you fought. He saw it then, before everyone else, and now the world sees it."

And now, the Undertaker smiled his familiar dark smile. "Deep down inside, you really are an animal. A killer. A beast. One who takes pleasure in the pain of others. Another vessel of Darkness."

Although he didn't fully understand what the Undertaker was getting at, Batista found himself nodding, agreeing with the older man's words.

"I've played the good guy for too long," Dave whispered, eyes still locked with the Deadman's. "I thought it was time for a change...Especially when a joke like Cena thinks that fighting me is a game."

"Sometimes," the Undertaker said with a smirk, "It's the little things that push us over the edge of sanity and into madness."

Again, Batista nodded, but he was suddenly struck with the realization that the Undertaker wasn't just referring to his rivalry with John Cena.

The Animal, again thrown off his guard, looked hard into the green eyes in front of him, eyes that betrayed nothing of whatever the Undertaker was thinking. But, somehow, Batista understood that the man in front of him was giving him an invitation.

But an invitation to what?

There was only one thing that Batista wanted from this man, and they both knew it.

'He's probably just screwing with my head,' Dave thought to himself, at last averting his gaze and staring at the floor. 'I told him before that I...'

"You know," the Undertaker said suddenly, standing up and shaking his head. "For all the changes in attitude, you're still as dumb as a fucking post, Dave." In one fluid motion, he picked up his bag, threw it over his shoulder, turned his back on Batista and started towards the door.

That was all the last push that the Animal needed.

With a roar, he rushed the Deadman, hoping to tackle him from behind and take him down. Unsurprisingly, the Undertaker sidestepped the charging Animal with a smirk, even going so far as to shove the younger man forward and into the waiting wall.

But Batista had anticipated the dodge, had already planned well ahead for it, _and_ the following shove. As soon as the Undertaker's hand pressed against his head, the Animal had grabbed the larger man's wrist, using his momentum to pull the Deadman's body against his as he stumbled forwards. With the added weight, he didn't crash head-first into the wall, and, instead, found himself lying on his back on the ground, the pressure from the Undertaker's body on top of his forcing the air out of his lungs.

Not the best position for a fight, but, for Batista, not an undesired position.

"Dumb as a post," 'Taker repeated with a shake of his head, sitting up so that he straddled the Animal's waist. "Just what were you planning to do?"

The Undertaker's condescending tone made Batista see red again. Without a word, he bucked his hips as hard as he could, throwing the veteran off of him and sending the Deadman hard to the floor. Not wasting a moment's time, Batista climbed atop the Undertaker, using his powerful legs to keep the Deadman down and still, and his muscular arms to stop any potential punches.

"You're one annoying son of a bitch when you want to be," Batista fumed, loving the flash of light that came into the burning green eyes below him. "Someone should have shut you up a long time ago."

'Taker almost laughed. "Many have tried, Boy, but every single one of them have-" A hard slap across the face ended the tirade before it could start, and slightly surprised the Deadman. Since when did Batista ever slap someone like that?

"And it falls to me," Dave continued, "To shut that whore mouth of yours."

Again, 'Taker's eyes flashed. "Whore mouth? You son of a-" This time a punch, and now the Deadman spat out a glob of blood onto the floor as he turned his head to the side. However, a bloody smile soon crossed his features as he looked up at the younger man above him.

"You know that I'm going to kill you for this," he promised in a low, threatening voice.

"Not before I fuck you," Batista promised in return, and began to make due on that promise immediately by bringing his mouth down hard on the Undertaker's.

Instinctively, 'Taker brought up his hands and pushed Batista away, and a thin bloody line of saliva hung between them for a moment before the Animal licked his lips and renewed the assault.

"You think I'll just let you have me?" the Undertaker asked, now struggling to throw Batista off of him as he had been thrown off, but to no avail. In fact, the only reward he received for his efforts were several hard punches to the face as he fought back, one of which he knew had landed solidly and was the cause of a nasty black eye.

"No, I don't think you'll let me have you," Batista answered, taking a moment to run his hands down the Undertaker's muscular arms before pinning them again. "But the fun is in the taking..." He bounced hard once on the Deadman's midsection, driving the breath from his body a few times before he allowed himself the pleasure of lying fully on top of the Deadman. As he had hoped, however, the moment the pressure was off even in the slightest bit, the Undertaker rolled over, pinning Batista against the ground, snarling around a bloody lip and a black eye.

"What the hell did you let me up for?" 'Taker asked, not at all fooled by Dave's charade. "I thought the fun was in the taking...did you pussy out already?"

The Animal laughed the insult away. "The fun _is_ in the taking, Deadman, but there's even more fun in taking someone by surprise. I'd wager that you're too honorable and full of pride to know about such things, but I can tell you this much: one of the best feelings in the world is having someone struggle under you as you come. Trust me, I know."

A look of uncertainty crossed the Undertaker's face; Batista had hit the nail on the head with his assumption. The Undertaker had never had to resort to rape, nor did he ever plan on doing so. Still...

"I could kill you right now, you know," the Deadman said calmly. "Very easily, and no one would ask a single question."

Batista smiled confidently. "But you're not going to," he reasoned. "Because you _want_ me to take you by surprise one day; you _want_ to cheat on Shawn, because you're a filthy slut just like JBL had guessed, and you don't have the balls to-"

Suddenly, Batista found _his_ sentences being cut short by pounding fists.

It was only two quick hits in succession, but he could already feel the side of his face swelling. And when he looked up into the Undertaker's green eyes, they were fully blazing with Hellfire.

Exactly the way Batista loved seeing them.

"Beautiful," Dave whispered reverently, causing another uncertain look to cross the Deadman's face. Against his will, 'Taker's mind flashed back to the first time Shawn had called him beautiful. Of course, thinking of Shawn brought him back to his senses, and he looked down to see Batista's quickly swelling face.

"No," he answered, as much to himself as the Dave. "I don't want to cheat on Shawn." He leaned down until his face was only an inch from the younger man's. "However..." With a small smile, he pressed his lips hard against Batista's in a dominating kiss. Batista struggled against him, but 'Taker was determined to show the other man who was in charge here.

Or maybe he just wanted to kiss him.

With an inward shrug, 'Taker slipped his tongue into Batista's mouth, tasting him fully as he held the younger man's arms against the floor, keeping his hips pinned so that he couldn't move.

'Not bad,' he mused, deepening the kiss slightly. 'Nothing compared to Shawn's kisses, but this isn't bad...' Through his one good eye, he saw Batista's slow surrender, felt his movements against him cease.

The moment that happened, however, the Undertaker pulled back, licking his lips.

"You want so much more," he mused, standing up, and leaving Batista prone on the floor, looking up at him incredulously. "And yet you will never, ever get what you want."

The Animal sat up, dizzied by the heat of the kiss and the heat of his anger. "I'll take what I want," he swore, brown eyes narrowing.

The Undertaker gave him an even look. "Not before I kill you," he replied, again picking up his bag and walking away, leaving Batista stunned and unfulfilled on the floor.

"But that mean streak of yours," he called over his shoulder as he walked out of the room. "I like it. You'll go far being ruthless."

Batista couldn't help but smile bitterly as the door closed in the wake of the Deadman. The man he had fought against and lost to on the Grandest Stage of Them All. The man he had at various points admired, respected, hated and feared.

The man he wanted more than anything else in the world.

"Far, but never far enough," he said to himself as he stood and looked into one of the mirrors at his swelling face. However, Batista quickly put an end to his self-pitying thoughts.

After all, he had an attack to plan.

Within seconds, the bitter smile had morphed into something far more sinister.

'Let him try to kill me...I'm going to take what I want, even if I have to push him over the edge of reason into the realm of madness...' Batista shook his head, laughing even.

'A nice mean streak, huh? That son of a bitch is going to find out just how mean I can be...'

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_The End...or is it? Possible part 2, you say? ;)_

_Review?_


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